


sent by sources beyond salvation

by Tysis



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Is mature even the right tag for this?, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Murder, Not Canon Compliant, Oops, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Unohana Retsu Deserved Better, Unohana does not know what this chill you speak of, Unreliable Narrator, does it count if it is in the past?, haha - Freeform, in the fucking least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tysis/pseuds/Tysis
Summary: Unohana Retsu Fixes Everything(with murder)[but is it really murder if Isane doesn't see it? More at eleven.]
Relationships: Kotetsu Isane/Unohana Retsu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 93





	1. Prologue: Spider Lilies in Gray

**Author's Note:**

> Content Subject to Percussive Maintenance as Author Tries to Get Their Shit Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewritten 2/6  
> Edited 2/12

Retsu’s Revenge [A Multistep Programme]

Once upon a time, there was nothingness. Once upon a time, there was a chasm between the world and once upon a time, there was a quiet snap as reality abruptly reasserted itself.

Inky black hair swept freely over her shoulders for the first time in centuries and Unohana Retsu opened her eyes.

A stale tan wall stood before her, ordinary in all respects. It was a far cry from the gleaming white of the Soul Kings Palace or the Depths of Muken. Or rather, what was left of it. What had been left, covered in the sifting ashes and bloodstains. Because before she died-

Before-

Isane died first.

Unohana Retsu died soon after.

She died in the dark.

Undone, in the end, by the very thing she was trying to leave behind.

A Legacy.

So, now, here she was. Standing in a courtyard. A garden. It was raining.

She tilted her head back and just, basked in the cold water that poured over her brow. The overcast sky dumped buckets upon buckets in the wake of pitch clouds. How long had it been since she had last felt rain on her skin? Years. Months, at the very least, since before the Quincy came, and in the end there had been only ash clouded skies and the burning hearts they left in their wake.

Hers included.

Retsu’s eyes slid closed, the barest hint of weakness. The only noise around her was the thrum of the rain on the roofs and the hissing of the wind through the grass that swayed around her feet. Her shoes were stuck in the mud.

It was a simple conclusion in the end. Rain had no longer been a pure thing by the time she had died, had no longer meant anything but a new round of injured, flooding the already full sickbay. She remembered the acid rain, the war, the casualties, and she remembered dying all too clearly.

Unohana Retsu, once Yachiru, had died for someone. Some _thing_. Had died, hoping to forge a legacy, a name that would outlast the bloodstains on her hand, and maybe, just maybe, fill even the smallest part of the gaping void in her soul. Died so that another would live, and become the stronger for it.

Isane had been killed only days before. Ripped open on the steps of the Fourth Division like a discarded doll and so Retsu had gone and died as well, as soon as she could reasonably follow. 

She died in the dark and in the deep, falling out of death and into the forgotten places between worlds following the barest thread of spiritual ribbon and the Soul King had reached down to pull her back. It was burning, bright and pure and horrible and he reached down to bring her back to life and she _burned the heart from his chest._

And then there was only the rushing of air and darkness and then. And then there was rain. And then, Retsu thought, lifting a hand and inspecting it, there was a golden thread.

And now, Retsu thought, she was back.

  
  


Before it all came crashing down.

Before-

How long had it been? _Hours,_ Something in the back of her mind, a remnant, whispered, _days. Isane left on patrol and We were waiting for her in the garden._

_We waited for so long._

The rain came down in sheets like the world was grieving.

The golden threat rippled eerily against the wind. It swayed, now and again pulling taut in the direction of the outer districts.

Retsu… smiled. It was thin and short-lived, unpracticed and true, for at the end of the thread was Isane. She could map out exactly how far away the love of her long, long life was from the Capital. Far enough. Miles upon miles, with weeks’ worth of duties to do, diligent enough to not even consider returning early for anything less than a direct order.

She’d need the time.

Everything kind and gentle had been stripped from her. Gone was the healer, the patient, the wise and with Isane so far away, so long in returning, Retsu could take her time, carefully repairing the torn mask of centuries-

Her fingers twitched, a frown stole its shadow across her lips. Indecision warred. The mask was necessary. She had spent so long wearing it, had cultivated her reputation so precisely that no one truly remembered who she had been, even up to the very end.

The first Kenpachi. Yachiru, the Butcher.

It would scare Isane if she didn’t fix herself. If she didn’t go back to the white moonlight and silk sleeves. It would…

But if she didn’t, how much she could _change_. Aizen was alive, ripe for the cutting, Isane was alive, whole, healthy. 

Retsu breathed out, slowly. In 2, 3, 4. Out 6, 7, 8. Her heartbeat slowed, strengthened until she could see it pulsing under her skin, veins darkening, spreading out and staining the surface of her arms like spider lilies etched in grayscale. An old technique to her, a Quincy rip-off perfected with razor-like precision.

She opened her eyes far above the dome of Seireitei. Thousands upon hundreds of spirit ribbons soared up to meet her, plus and reaper alike, and she honed in on one, just now on the outskirts of the Court. Kurosaki Ichigo in all him mutant flair, oil-slick ribbon shining like a bonfire in the dead of night.

Isane, sweet, kind Isane shone out even brighter, miles away in the out district, safe, away from her.

Now Retsu could orient herself. This was before Aizen showed himself, before he threw off his own elaborate disguise and stepped out into the light of betrayal. Kuchiki Rukia’s execution and the first invasion of Soul Society. She could change _everything_ from here.

She had to. Isane would-

Isane would never understand. Everything that was wrong with this world, Retsu could sweep aside, like broken glass, Isane would never have to know-

She would find out. Isane would find out eventually. But perhaps, that would be okay. Retsu would stay away, keep her hunger at bay like she used to, keep her distance. Isane would live, happy and whole, safe away from her. And Retsu could have her revenge.

Whatever that was.

Static rose and fell, filling her ears with the ringing of swords and the gush of blood, replaying over and over in the empty spaces in her mind. Retsu would have to be careful, for sure, surgical. That said, who was there to stop her? She had come back under her own power, her own force splitting the skin between worlds and stitching it up behind her, this was hers to decide. 

Retsu let herself fall, down down down towards the waiting Court. She thought while in freefall.

There was so much she could do and with all the precision of centuries of plotting, her perfect plan formed.

Step 1: Kill Aizen.

Step 2: Bring him back.

Rinse and repeat as necessary or until Isane comes back and makes her stop.

…

Maybe the plan could use a little more work, but it was a good start. Short-term death was hardly a permanent thing for her, especially given the power of her Zanpaktou, so she could start there and consider it a work in progress.

The road before the first Division shattered as it broke her freefall, a great crater rupturing the walls of neighboring buildings. Dust filled the air.

She hummed lightly, turned to face the doors fully, and brought the crushing weight of her Reiatsu down like the footfall of a giant.

The air screamed, thick and oppressive. Blood filled. Thousands of tons of pure, unfiltered hatred was brought to bear on a world that had long forgotten it and Unohana Retsu _smiled._

-

The doors of the venerated 1st Division exploded inward in a shower of splinters. Burning wood ricocheted, lodging in wall and flesh alike and, robes billowing, Retsu stepped past the ruined remains of the doorframe. Her mind, still, deadly quiet now with the destruction she wrecked on the way in, snapped together pieces of plan after plan before breaking them apart again.

Quite honestly, she still wasn’t completely sure what she was going to do here. Kill someone, obviously, but besides that…

Her eyes locked on Aizen Sousuke.

The floor ruptured, carefully smoothed and maintained wood destroyed under her feet and she, between one breath and the next, slammed Aizen into the wall with an iron grip on his throat. The shards of her mask that she had meticulously gathered, pieced together, fell away like glass. A cool breeze caressed her face.

She breathed, slow and deliberate, forcing down the blood that was rising under her skin. The flowering web of gray reiatsu just above it pulsed in time. What was supposed to happen next? A few leadened seconds ticked by.

Retsu…

Smiled.

The hall exploded into motion.

Hinamori shrieked like a banshee, her sword already out and swinging before anyone else could draw, striking at Retsu. The blade struck her forearm and skittered off, not even scratching the exposed flesh. A hand came down on Hinamori’s head like a hammer blow, Retsu, tried, actually trying to be gentle but, eh. Lieutenants, she decided, were a little like non-combatants, a term explained to her once by Kurosaki the Younger during the war. It seemed to mean something along the lines of too weak to be bothered with. That would be Rule #1: No bladed combat against Lieutenants.

“What are you waiting for,” Retsu challenged. The captains shifted uneasily from where they had moved to cover the exits, their own Lieutenants, or both. Aizen made a pathetic noise as he struggled uselessly, pushing against her wrist in a feeble attempt to break free.

Rule #2: Combatants must make the first move.

Soi-Fon, Captain of the 2nd, was the first to try her luck. “Stealth Corp!” She cried, flinging out a hand. Dozens of Onmi flash-stepped in, filling every available space between Retsu and the Captains. They were fast, darting dagger, wire garottes and the like but she was faster and lashed out with a thin whip of power to clear the dance floor. Soi-Fon lunged, burning over with rage at the casual way Retsu dealt with her underlings. She was speed incarnate, faster than lightning- (not fast enough to catch up to the one person who really mattered)- and still Retsu was faster, nearly bisecting the Assassin Captain, scoring a deep blow across her chest.

A wordless _shikai_ and the wound healed as soon as sword left flesh, leaving Soi-Fon crumpled on the ground, gasping for air.

Rule #3: No [permanent] killing

Right?

She smiled again, and in the blink of an eye, severed Aizen Sosuke’s head from his shoulders. Blood gushed, painting the walls and floor. Staining them. The next breath, time reversed, his head rising from the floor to seamlessly reunite with his neck. Hinamori screamed.

Retsu did it again, watching as his head once again fell. Rose. Fell. Rose. Again-

“Enough!” The Soutaicho roared, sword half drawn. “Unohana Retsu, what is the meaning of this.”

Retsu turned to him, hair tumbling freely over her shoulders, free and unbound for the first time in the assembled living memory. “What other meaning could it possibly have?” She chided him. This time it was Aizen that screamed as she stepped down hard, several of his ribs breaking with grisly cracks.

R̴̥̖͍̜̦̻̮̬u̶͈̥̥͚̮l͙̫e͏̣̠̝̤̳ ̹͓̣̱̱̻͡4̸̳͔̙͙͙̺̼:̶̡͙͈ ̸̪̝̙̦̖̕͟ͅT̢̛͍͍̜̩͓̥̱̟͎h̛̬͖̮̬̬͚͢͢ͅe̢̨̦̻̲̻͓͕ŗ̭̳̺e̩̘̠͇̕'̬̼̼͔͝s̶̡̻̯̭̝̬ ̥n̷̜̼̻̫̤̯͠ͅo͖͞ ̸̛̮͍̬̫̤k̝̥̝͚̻̗͠i͈͖̥̕l͏̨͉̹̭̤̳̰̤ͅl̬̯ ̰͕̱͍̣̻̝̝͜l̸͙̺͕̱͍͓̺̩͈i̵̖̟̤̠̺͔̲k̡̙̹̖͕̙͙͖̞͘e̴͉͔͓̹̞̳ͅ ̱̳̺̘̹o̷̩̱͙v͏̪e̛͓͇͎r̷̫͝ͅ ̷̗̲̘̯̤͇͡͝k̴̵̷̙͚̰̤i̯̤̥̩̥̫l͍̣̞͟l̼̬̖̱͓̕.̺̦͢͠

That said, she had always loved a chase.

She let up the pressure, stepping back from Aizen’s recumbent form and the tension in the room melted from absolute zero. Aizen fled, blasting a hole in the wall as he did so and Genryusai’s boys made a wall between Retsu and him. Not threatening, but warning. Yamamoto's beloved grandsons, the dual wielders, the pride of his cold rotten heart. They wouldn’t be able to hold her back and they knew it.

Genryusai sighed and closed his sword with a click, eyes still slitted and wary. “Mind your place, Unohana- _taicho_.”

Retsu almost considered it. Almost let the thought pass through her and out, almost _listened,_ out of habit, out of years of diminished life and kneeling. Almost. “And where,” she said slowly, “Would that be? The 4th division, tucked away from the frontlines, the farthest from any fight? Seireitei as a whole, the city of _cowards and noble brats_ ? Behind you, as a loyal _dog._ ”

Genryusai made an outraged noise but she cut him off before anything could be said.

“You wanted me to stop,” she said, the pressure in the air driving half the Captains to their knees. “I stopped. For you. Because you were my friend. Because you asked. For years, I stepped back, I healed, I helped. I held back for so long. You knew this would come.”

From his place, leaning heavily against the cane that hid his sword, Genryusai Yamamoto wheezed. “We, are not. Killers.”

“Liar.” And then she was gone, through the open wall and out into the streets.

-

  
  


Aizen Sosuke was not the kind of man to panic. He planned, he plotted, but in doing so he had contingencies for contingencies, all stacked up on top of each other for metaphorical miles.

This was not something he had planned for. Kuchiki Rukia’s execution would have been perfect, he could have revealed himself to the world, take what was his. He could have left to prepare for the war he had been courting for so long, he could have-

The world shut down.

Restarted.

  
Aizen Sosuke _screamed_.


	2. Chapter 1: Lights, Camera: Action?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, people make themselves.  
> Also Titled: Orihime Gets In Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Chapter 2 has now arrived.

She stalked him across the Seireitei, letting him run, run and exhaust himself, run and she watched him, desperate as he was, flee. Only one of the needed speed, only one felt the urgency. She was not that one.

Unohana Retsu knew well what rewards patience could bring to her. Had _brought_ to her. (Isane, for one. Retsu had spent all those years alone, isolated in the bare gray hospital until she came. And the _sun rose._ ) So there was no haste in her footsteps, no unneeded speed. Her heartbeat was even, deep. Steady, like the beating of war drums. She could take all the time she needed.

Every so often, as the cat and mouse game wound its way through the pristine streets between districts, she would catch up. Drop in front of him like the descent of lightning and carve a new scar into his body, healing it roughly. Healing it bad, so the feathered edges burned with his every move, but just enough that he could still run. Her _shikai_ was well suited to the task, and it was nice, seeing him like that.

Running, running, bleeding.

Afraid.

It was calming.

Like each new wound bled some of the fury, the hate from her heart, each step he took away satisfying something inside of her.

Easing the edges of the hunger she had brought back with her. Sharpening it into something useful. Like fitting a nuke (some weapon of mass, undirected destruction, she assumed, given how often Kurosaki Ichigo been referred to as it), in a scalpel’s worth of space.

Precision, that’s what she needed, more than anything else at the moment.

Crashing the Captain’s meeting had been hasty and poorly thought out. There had been no risk to her, or her life per se, but the potential for collateral damage had been… greater than expected. The Soul Society wasn’t at war at the moment. There was no need for Captains to hold back, to regulate themselves. 

And so, here Retsu was, bleeding off the top layer of blood welling in her head on Aizen’s still walking corpse, enforcing control over herself as she killed him again. And again. And-

It was settling. Meditative.

She watched as he ran away, ripping himself off her sword and fleeing into a side corridor. The flawless white of the looming walls was dirty here, flawed and cracked by the sheer amount of power they both had been throwing around. Retsu found she liked it better this way.

It was more real.

Retsu stood and watched Aizen’s coattails disappear around the corner, tapping the polished blade of her sword against the ground.

Finally, the roaring in her head had simmered down below boiling, cooled enough that she could step back again. Enough to plan, perhaps. She wanted to change everything. To stop the war before it even started because it had taken away the one thing she cared about, because the only thing that could matter to her was Isane and what mattered to Isane. And what mattered to Isane was…

Everything.

Retsu frowned, the corner of her mouth ticking downward. It was as it always had been, Isane’s heart was 5 sizes too large. She cared about everyone, even the worst, the lowest. _Even her, even Retsu, even bloody bloody Yachiru_.

She held no illusions about what she was, A murderer, yes. A killer. Insane? Perhaps, though the term hadn’t been as precise as it was now when she was alive. She was so much in so little space. During the war she had worked with a Quincy doctor, the Uncle of Kurosaki the Younger, when the walls between dimensions had finally cracked. He had a few choice words to say regarding her and it would have been a rainy day in Hueco Mundo before he stopped trying to kill her. Not that it had been especially dangerous, but dodging arrows while trying to sew someone’s spine back into their body was tiresome work.

Ishida Ryuken had called her many things. Psychotic, Deranged. Sociopathic. Unhinged, batshit insane. Retsu found that the one she liked best was when, in one spectacularly drunken rant, on a night when the moon was full and casualties the lowest they had been in years, he had described her as ‘a broken parody of the human psyche that was set three feet off the moral compass.’

The first part had never been more correct. There was something broken in her and she had shattered it with her own 2 hands. No quirk of mind or upbringing had made her like this, with fire and ice dry rage. She made herself. Because one day she died. Properly. One day she died, the next, she woke up. She looked around herself and found only chaos. _One day, starving, crawling, scarred, she woke up. And she smiled._

And it wasn’t something to be fixed, something that could be fixed, something that should, at least, to her.

Retsu sighed, banishing the thoughts, and set off through the winding corridors. She really was in the middle of something and there was a time and a place for reminiscing. This was neither.

… 

Now, where _had_ he gone?

-

Orihime was so, so, so fucking lost. Ishida was gone, had _run off_ , and left her all on her lonesome in enemy territory, _lost_.

Actually, wasn’t this like when her parents got so caught up fighting each other that they left her in the amusement park that one time? It had taken Sora for-eeeever to find her and it had been raining too!

There was no one in sight this time. No guard, no rides, no food stalls…

Her stomach groaned.

“Excuse me?” A hand tapped Orihime’s shoulder and she yelped. She turned around and took a step back because behind her stood the- 

Most

Beautiful person, she had ever seen. 

It wasn’t the clothes, which were the standard reaper fare with an added overcoat but there was a heaviness to her attention and her hair. Oh gosh her hair.

“Have you seen Aizen- _taicho_ around here?” The beautiful lady asked.

“I-wh-That is, I’m not-I don’t,” Orihime stammered, bluescreening. The Lady laughed gently, beautifully with a sleeve brought up to cover her mouth. Her eyes were dead. Empty at first glance but something lurked. Something waited behind them. Self-preservation skills that Orihime had almost forgotten she had at this point pulled the fire alarm. Kill-bill sirens went off. “I haven’t seen him today!” She chirped with all the cheer she could muster while still choosing each word carefully. “I was going to meet up with my friend with Ishida- _kun,_ but there was an explosion, and then all the people ran away!”

“Is that so?” The Lady said, carelessly brushing back a handful of loose, inky black hair. “I see. Good luck finding your friends then.” She turned to walk away and the alarms still ringing in Orihime’s head just got louder.

“Wait!” She shouted, “Can I come with you? What’s your name?” Orihime reached out and grabbed the edge of the lady’s sleeve. Almost immediately, she knew she fucked up. The lady froze in place and Orihime didn’t even dare to breathe.

  
“Captain Unohana Retsu,” Unohana Retsu said finally, unfreezing and patting Orihime’s head in an almost condescending manner. “And I’d love the company, _ryouka-chan_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls bear with me while I try and write a centuries old serial killer/ mass murderer without falling back on the *bad parenting* or *just like this lmao* excuses

**Author's Note:**

> hi and welcome to *deep breath*
> 
> HOW THE FUCK WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE A FULFILLING CHARACTER ARC KUBO????? SHE WAS SO MUCH STRONGER THAN THAT TWIG KENPACHI, SHE SHOULD HAVE GONE ALL OUT AND OBLITERATED THEM ALL FROM THE START WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
